Isabella
by fondu au noir
Summary: Musings of a Slytherin.  Written May 2009.


_Disclaimer:_ I don't own HP and I never will.

**Isabella**

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* * *

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_"Sometimes people are beautiful. Not in looks. Not in what they say. Just in what they are."_

_I Am The Messenger - Markus Zusak_

* * *

Two things. My name is Kaya and I don't have a fucking clue what I'm going to do with my life.

It's ironic. Maybe if I wasn't the youngest, things would be different. My life would not be full of 'Isabella love, why can't you be more social like Aurora?'s and 'Isabella honey, why can't you be as smart as Marcus?'s Maybe if I was born at a different time, I wouldn't try to be so different from my siblings. Maybe I'd actually have a fucking clue what to do with my life. I don't know. I think that's how life is supposed to work. It's all choices. One wrong move and everything changes. You just don't feel it.

I don't try to act smart. That's for people like Marcus to take care of. They're the ones who believe they can outsmart anyone because of their high intellect and seemingly clever analogies and metaphors. Me, I don't give a shit about when the Goblin Wars occured or how to brew potions that make you sneeze. I don't want to be like some socialite like my sister. I don't want to be a bloody genius like Marcus. I don't want to be some mindless minion of the wizard reincarnation of Hitler. Truth is, I have a huge list of things I don't want to be, but my list of things I do want to be is still where it has always been. Nowhere. It never existed.

I'm pretty much a pathetic excuse of a Slytherin. I'm not evil, I have no bloody ambition, and I probably hold the world title for lamest comebacks ever. Don't even try to argue with me.

As if you really needed to know about me. Actually, I don't want people to know me. I've been fine my entire life, just doing my own thing at my own time. I never liked rules and they never liked me. They're too much to deal with, and honestly, how could someone possibly 'become an individual' like they all say they want to be if they all live by the same rules? I know, pathetic right? Before you start to think I'm really just a bitch pretending I'm not, I'm really not. I just want to get the point across. I have no public speaking skills. Everything I want to say always comes out the wrong way or in a wrong tone. So before I continue with my endless words, I apologize for anything I have said or will say in the near future. I don't mean a bloody word I say. Here's a nice fact for you. You might not want to know, but you will know anyways because I'm telling you right now. In case you haven't figured out already, that is, if you're anything like my brother, epitome of godly wisdom, intelligence, blah blah, and so forth, I'm just a girl who has no clue what she's going to do with her life, who has no idea who she is herself, and only tries to understand the world. But in reality, I really don't know. I really don't know what the hell all of this is supposed to be. I don't know what to live for.

I think I think too much. I think I'm normal enough. At least, I hope I am.

I want to be the only person like me that you've met.

* * *

Feelings.

A word unheard of in my vocabulary.

I don't like to share my feelings.

You don't need to care about me, or my feelings.

I've pushed them aside.

I hardly _feel_ anymore.

I've locked them away somewhere.

I don't know where, but I'm not going to look for them.

I'm not truly happy.

I've brought it upon myself.

* * *

Like I said. You don't know me. You don't know me at all. I don't want you to know. I'm perfectly fine just being by myself. Ever since I was little, it was always Aurora this, Marcus that. I couldn't help to feel jealous, but whenever I spoke up, somehow, it became my fault. I didn't like it. I didn't know how to stop it. So I just dealt with it. Ever since then, I don't know, I've changed. I guess I've grown up too fast - faster than my peers. I haven't told anyone what I've really felt all this time. I feel like I should. I don't know how. I'm not the perfect one in my family. There was Aurora, social queen, clever, funny, and everybody liked her. And there was also Marcus, who was so fucking smart that everybody wanted to be as smart as him. They didn't compete against themselves, but they started competing against _him_. It was kind of annoying, anyways. Frost is a pretty uncommon last name. So obviously, they knew I was their younger sister. They didn't know me as Isabella, or whatever, they knew me as their younger sister. They didn't even pay attention to the fact how weird our relationship is.

Seriously.

My sister was in Gryffindor. My brother was in Ravenclaw. We were one of those really old pureblood families from way back when. We're supposed to be one of the _good_ families. Why the hell did the little sister end up in Slytherin?

Don't ask me.

Really. I don't know. Maybe I do, but I just don't 'deserve' it like all those useless idiots I had to share a dorm with.

Obviously, they didn't like me.

From the moment I was Sorted into Slytherin, everything's been so different. Well, more different than it has always been.

* * *

_"Mummy, I want a sister."_

_"Her name should be Isabella. You know, bella, in Italian, doesn't it mean beautiful? She's going to be beautiful like you, Jess."_

_"She'll be just like Aurora. I just know it."_

_"No, maybe she'll be just as smart as Marcus."_

_"Isabella, share some of that with your sister."_

_"I'll put you in...SLYTHERIN!"_

_"Personally, I suggest you transfer out of this class. _You aren't exactly up to par with your work._"_

_"Isabella, honey, you're going shopping with your mum and that is final."_

I hate it when people think it's so nice of them to decide your life.

* * *

I was always a rebel. Not in the worst way, I suppose. You know, the stereotypical rebel includes the customary tattoo or tattoos, unnecessary piercings in the ear, nose, tongue, belly button, and every other place possible, smoking, drinking, and cussing the shit out of someone. I'll have you know, I never did any of that. But I hated whatever my parents had to say. I don't hate them. I hate their words. I knew, I _know_ these words are supposed to encourage me. They're supposed to make me a better person. Obviously they don't. Or maybe I just hate my life.

Interruption for a moment.

I'm not suicidal.

Depressed.

Maybe a pessimist though.

I suppose that's one thing school's managed to influence on me.

At first, it went a little something like this:

_"Isabella dear, share your toys with your sister and brother."_

_"But they're mine, Mum. They have their own toys to play with."_

to

_"Izzy, you need to study more, or you'll fail your exams once you get to university."_

_"I'm not Marcus, Dad."_

to

_"Izzy, why don't you ever talk to us anymore?"_

_"I don't know."_

On second thought, maybe I was just being a brat. But in my defense, being constantly compared to your perfect older siblings, who usually didn't give a shit about you unless they needed something from you, kind of gets to you after a while. Think about it. Here I am in a family where they already had the perfect children. They were _twins_ too. My parents had the common interest of wanting a perfect family. They had Aurora and Marcus. They wanted me to be perfect too. The problem was, I didn't _want_ to be perfect. I wanted to be _me_. I didn't want to be part of some freakishly perfect family. Maybe that's why I always wanted to be different. Partly because it was wired in my brain or something. Mostly because of all this pressure to be like Aurora or Marcus. If you think I'm ridiculous, imagine yourself in my place. You'd want to be different too, I assure you.

But it seems like, at one point, I just didn't know what to do anymore. I wanted to rebel against my parents so much, but then, I don't know. I guess one day, I realized there was nothing to do after I'd proven my point. So now I'm here, pathetic and unambitious. Is that even a word? God, I can't even get this out right.

* * *

_"There were people everywhere on the city street, but the stranger could not have been more alone if it were empty."_

_The Book Thief - Markus Zusak_

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* * *

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I'm sure, to you, all this made no sense.

It better, because it didn't make any sense to me either.

I'll tell you what _does_ make sense to me though.

I laugh. I don't love. I live. I don't cry. I'm not funny; I don't try to be funny. I suck at comebacks. I almost never say what I want to mean, one way or another. But somehow, someway, I still manage to get by.

Actually, I'm rather alone. I think I have always been alone. I don't really mind. It's working out so far, isn't it?

* * *

Maybe I'm not normal. I definitely don't think the same way most people do. Maybe that's what makes us who we are. We influence others, and we influence ourselves. It's like I have two different sides of me. There's me, who's talking to you right now - it's as deep as I can get, and then there's me, a mere shadow of who I want to be. Someone who isn't always submerged in their thoughts, someone who isn't so self-criticizing, someone with _dreams_ and _goals_.

I can't blame my parents. I can't blame my brother and sister. I can't blame anyone but me. I don't want to sit here forever, but all the choices I've made have led to this. I don't know how to fix this. I never said I knew how to fix everything. If you think I'm just a little girl gone wrong, I am not. If you're wondering why the hell you stayed here so long just to listen to me rant about things even I don't understand, go ask Merlin or something.


End file.
